I feel pity for whoever wins the Tory leadership contest. They are all seriously deluded. They think they are fighting for power. Yet the winner will have no more influence over their, or our, destiny than a newly appointed captain of the Titanic would have done once the ship was holed.
They will take over the helm of a troubled nation, its citizens bemused at the country’s loss of global influence, by the increasing division between the haves and have-nots, and by their continued failure to achieve a sense of true prosperity, despite them working harder and harder and harder. Meanwhile temperatures rise, forests burn, air is polluted, and the sea fills inexorably with plastic.
Any MP member of the large Westminster parties is institutionally prohibited from admitting to any of this — it is a heresy, unspeakable. They have to stand for the myth of progress, even when it gets almost impossible to maintain the pretence any longer.
The hardest thing is that they know in their hearts the ship is going down. But they still cling to the fantasy that they can be the one to make the difference — just give them a chance at the helm, they think, and they will lead us to the promised land.
They run a big risk. The populace won’t look kindly on whoever is at the helm when the truth of our predicament becomes clear. The parliamentary party that these aspiring leaders are so keen to save will be torn to pieces.
I won’t be sorry, but neither will I gloat. My attention lies elsewhere. There is too much work to be done. Healing work. Restorative work. My attention is on regeneration, and I won’t be distracted by the collapse of the old. Who’s with me?